


Weakened

by SatanDaddy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: :), Adjusting to being a werewolf, BAMF Stiles, Because stiles has skills, F bomb here and there, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Good Parent Melissa McCall, Good Peter Hale, Language, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mama Melissa, Minor Melissa McCall/Sheriff Stilinski, Oblivious Pack, Oblivious Scott, Oblivious Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Pack Mom Melissa McCall, Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Protective Sheriff Stilinski, Sane Peter Hale, Scott Gives Stiles the Bite, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott is a Good Friend, Sheriff Stilinski Knows, Sheriff Stilinski Knows About Werewolves, Sheriff Stilinski's A+ Parenting, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Sick Character, Sick Stiles Stilinski, Sickfic, Stiles is good at hiding things okay?, Swearing, The pack is a good pack, They just dont notice, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, Ye thats no excuse, they good tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23356198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatanDaddy/pseuds/SatanDaddy
Summary: It started with a cough. A small one, not enough to raise concern. Not enough to raise any notice either.Then he stopped sleeping. Bruises gathered under his eyes and he became exhausted quickly.Then he got weaker. Weaker and weaker with every day that passed.Only then, did they notice how sick Stiles was.
Relationships: Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 17
Kudos: 239
Collections: Teen Wolf





	1. Chapter 1

Deaton disapproved.

He disapproved greatly. He didn't think Stiles should use his Spark to help fight off the Supernatutal. He didn't think Stiles should use his Spark at all unless absolutelty necessary.

And Stiles agreed. 

Stiles didn't think he should use his magic for anything. Part of him feared it. Deaton had warned him that using his Spark untrained and uncontrolled could result in some serious damage. 

It could bring about a darkness around his heart. It could make him heartless, merciless, careless. It could make him sick, dying, hurt. So many downsides to his magic. Deaton didn't have the time to train him, so Stiles didn't push it. He tried to forget about it.

But then the Nogitsune happened. People died and it was Stiles' fault. 

And Stiles wouldn't let anything like that happen again.

He stole a few books from Deaton. Only a few. He taught himself spells. Not any that he thought would be dangerous or risky. Just a few shielding spells. Defensive spells. Only so he could protect him and the people around him.

But he did learn one _off_ ensive spell. Just in case. Only if it was critical. He knew Deaton said offensive spells were the hardest to control, but Stiles didn't plan on using it.

So he returned the books and forgot about it. It was only when a new threat arose and Scott was losing a battle did Stiles remember what he'd taught himself. The threat was a Crocotta. Creatures who ate- yes, _ate-_ their victims and devoured their souls.

He couldn't use a defensive spell unless he was next to Scott because he didn't know how to broadcast the spell. Only how to perform it around himself. And Scott was on the other side of the room. Bloody, beaten.

The Crocotta was towering over Scott, teeth and claws at the ready and Stiles barely had time to think. He launched a spell at it, a jet of bright light springing from his fingertips, hitting the creature sqare in the chest.

And soon as he'd released that magic, that spell, he felt heavy. Heavy, dizzy, dark, tired. He saw black dots disrupting his vision and felt his knees buckle below him.

The last thing he heard before he faded into the black abyss was a weak cry of his name.


	2. Chapter 2

He heard a voice, cutting its way through the darkness that had swallowed him whole for what felt like decades. The voice sounded close, but it was just a distortion of l sound and made no sense to his sluggish brain.   
The compression in his throbbing head was overwhelming and his eyes felt so heavy that they felt impossible to lift. He forced his parched eyes open, and for once was glad that it was dark.  
'Stiles,’ the voice prodded desperately, and he groaned painfully in response, squinting up at the source of the voice.   
He looked around the room he was in. He saw a large dog-like body, spotted with leopard-like dots, crumpled in the corner, burn marks on its chest, smoke still floating from its body.  
He saw the room, all but destroyed from the recent fight, with broken and smashed furniture and windows.   
And slowly, everything began to make sense and become clear. The Crocotta. Scott. Using his magic.   
Scott, who he soon realised was saying his name, was shaking his shoulder gently, trying to wake him. It worked.

He looked Scott up and down. There was blood all over Scott's shirt, but he didn't seem to be in any pain. Stiles assumed he had healed but made sure anyway.  
'You hurt?'  
Scott rolled his puppy eyes. 'Fine, Stiles. Are you okay?'  
Stiles in all honesty didn't think he was. His head throbbed, he felt exhausted and wanted to sleep for the next thousand years. He hoped it wouldn't last. He hoped nothing would come of using his magic.  
But obviously Scott didn't need to know that.  
'Yeah, fine. What happened?'  
Scott offered a hand to help him sit up and Stiles accepted it as Scott replied.  
'You fainted after you attacked the Crocotta. Why'd you use magic? You know what Deaton said.'  
'I had to,' Stiles replied with a shrug. 'It was gonna kill you.'  
'You could've gotten yourself killed. Where'd you even learn that?' he asked, looking back at the creature's charred stomach. 'I thought Deaton wasn't teaching you?'  
Another shrug. 'Taught myself.'  
'Stiles!'  
'What? I had to defend you and the others somehow.'  
'Have you used it before this?' Scott asked, brows furrowed in worry.  
'No, calm down. This was the first time. Can we go now?' Stiles rolled his eyes. It seriously wasn't a big deal.  
'As long as you're alright.'  
'Yes, like I said, I'm fine.'  
'Are u sure?' Scott replied skeptically.  
'Yes!'  
'Okay, okay. But if you feel any side effects- and I mean any- tell. Me.'  
'Got it.'  
So Scott helped Stiles to his Jeep, and they returned to the Stilinski household. Even though Stiles insisted he was fine, Scott practically begged Stiles to let him stay. He said it was 'for your benefit' but in all honesty Stiles knew it was so Scott could be sure he was fine. Meaning Scott did indeed stay the night. He was clingy and, yes, they did have to share Stiles' bed as they were too tired to make a bed on the floor. Never again though, Scott's 'blanket-hogging' as he liked to call it was unbearable.  
In the morning, they wake up, eat breakfast, get dressed and go to school. Like normal.   
Stiles didn't tell Scott about his sleepless night (and no, it wasn't because of Scott hogging the blanket.) Stiles doesn't tell Scott about the tight, throbbing pain in his stomach or the headache that still remained.   
He knew he hid the pain and tiredness well because Scott didn't notice.  
No one else noticed either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed. Like seriously. I'm a people pleaser.


	3. Chapter 3

Scott had called a pack meeting.  
Peter didn't know what for or why he was required to attend these useless and boring meetings but he went anyway. He hated these ridiculous things and considered skipping but he had a feeling this would be interesting.   
And for once, he was glad he did.  
As soon as he entered the McCall house (the scheduled place to meet) he could tell something was wrong with the human.

He was quiet, which was a major red flag. Peter never thought he'd see the day. His face was ashen, a sickly, grey colour. His lips were chapped and his eyes stood out against his pale skin. His eyes that were downcast, filled with exhaustion and a kind of tired he wasn't sure sleep could fix. If the kid got any sleep at all, but judging but the dark bags under his eyes, that was a no. He was slumped on the couch by himself, sitting still, which since the human was always moving. And even though the whole pack was there, he was alone. Yes, there were people next to him on the couch, and people on the floor in front of him, but he was excluded from all conversation. Peter didn't know if that was intentional on Stiles' part or unintentional on the pack's.

It filled him with a frustrating and burning fury on his behalf. Stiles looked too tired to stay awake, and there the pack was, acting as if he wasn't there and being the ignorant and oblivious people they were.

He remembered how Stiles was always staying up researching for the pack, he was always there for them when they need support or advice, he was always trying his best and being braver than all of them despite being human and still, no one could do that for him. They all expected him to have the answers, to always be happy, energetic, sarcastic Stiles who was always there no matter what. But this, Peter thought bitterly, is unacceptable. They were taking Stiles for granted and it was ridiculous that they forgot. They forgot that Stiles is human. He won't heal from everything like they do.

Peter walked up behind Stiles, grabbed him by the hoodie and lifted him over the coach and towards the kitchen, ignoring his petty protests and spastoc attempts to escape his hold.  
Peter dumped him on a kitchen stool and closed the door before turning to him, crossing his arms and glaring at him.  
Stiles looked back, confused and a little scared for his life.  
'What did I do this time?' he asked, crossing his arms like Peter.  
'Have you been sleeping?'  
Stiles looked even more confused, and sort of like he was short circuiting, which in any other situation would be amusing. But not this one.  
'What?'  
'Have you been sleeping?' He repeated as if Stiles were a child. (Kind of was.)  
Stiles looked at him for another minute before his shoulders slumped.  
'Not really.'

=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Stiles realized he must look pretty bad for Peter to actually look concerned. Let alone say something about it.. He hoped he didn’t look as sick as he felt. His stomach was twisting so violently and his eyelids were so so heavy but he had to spend all his energy keeping them open and not throwing up and standing tall and not fainting and looking okay even though he wasn't, hereallywasn't. It took him a minute to remember that Peter had been saying something to him and he couldn't quite remember and his eyelids were ever so heavy and if he could just rest them for a minute-  
Stiles felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him and he was shaken out of his reverie.  
“Stiles!”  
It was Peter. Why was Peter there again? What had they been doing?  
'Stiles, are you okay?'  
'Hmm?'  
Peter looked worried. 'Have you been drinking water? Eating enough?'  
Stiles shrugged slugglishly even though he knew that wasn't the reason for his sickness.  
'What's wrong with you then?'  
Stiles shook his head. 'Just tired. I think I'm gonna head home.'

Peter wasn't satisfied with that answer. He knew Stiles wasn't just tired. There was something more going on here. But he knew how stubborn Stiles could be. So he let it go. He'd ask again next time he saw him. And next time, he would get answers.

Over the next few days, Stiles stops eating. His stomach is constantly squirming and twisting and he can't form an appetite, so he leaves it be. Maybe he'll feel better soon. Next he stops sleeping. He'd gotten little sleep before that but now his nights were plagued with strange dreams that made him feel more exhausted than normal. So he spent his nights staring at the ceiling. Time flew fast and he couldn't fathom how it would be 3am and then 7am in the blink of an eye. Then he started to lose track of time. He was always late to class. Even when early to school, even when he heard the bell, it was like he slowed down. Like he was in a fever dream and he couldn't work out where he was or where he was going or how to move. He started to fail his classes. He was constantly tired. He stopped showing up to lacrosse. He was always late to school.   
Then he stopped going to school. He couldn't come up with a reason to go anyway. They passed in a blur and he couldn't concentrate.  
So he stayed in bed. He stared at the ceiling. He became void, but this time it wasn't evil, or the Nogitsune. It was just empty. Nothing.  
He ignored his phone. He couldn't work up the motivation to move. The only time he did was when his father checked on him. He tried to pretend he was okay, but from the look in his father's eyes, he knew he failed.  
The sheriff didn't know about his absences because he was a senior and the office stopped calling when you were a senior.  
But his father, who desperately pleaded with him to tell him what was wrong, knew something was up  
And he would find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its kind of all over the place. And not edited well.
> 
> Pretty much after this the Sheriff will get scott to call a pack meeting and then he'll ask whats up with stiles then everyone will be confused then peter will get annoyed then there will be unhappy readers then-
> 
> Anyways...


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles grumbled as his phone buzzed, interrupting his restless sleep (but sleep nonetheless). Stiles knew that it could be important, what with being in a Supernatural world, and knew better then ignore it. 

It was a text from Scott.

_ Pack meeting at my house. 4pm. Not urgent _ **_._ **

Stiles sighed, looking at his alarm clock. 3pm. He should probably get ready.

He sat up, swinging his legs over his bed, and standing up, only to be met with an overwhelming dizziness that sent him toppling back to the ground. 

Blinking hard, Stiles tried to fight the black dots swimming in his vision and his throbbing headache.

On second thought, he didn't think he'd be going.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

'Where's Stiles?'

The pack had met at Scott's just like he'd asked. Even Melissa who had decided to join was there. Everyone except Stiles.

Scott tried to ignore the pang of worry. 

Peter looked exasperated. 'You don't know? I was under the impression that he was your friend?  _ Best _ friend?'

'He is. And what do you mean?' Scott asked, confusion filling his brown eyes.

Peter looked knowingly at Scott. 'I  _ mean  _ he's been a little… off, lately, don't you think?'

'I mean, he's been away from school and stuff. He's sick.'

'And you didn't think to check on him?'

'I did! I've called him heaps. He says he'll be at school tomorrow."

Peter scoffed. 'He's more than sick.'

'What are you talking about?' Melissa butted in. She hadn't seen Stiles in a while. And this was the first she was hearing of him being sick.

Peter looked bored, examining his nails as he replied. 'He's suffering from using magic,' he drawled.

Silence.

Uproar.

'What magic?'

'Is he okay?'

'What do you mean 'suffering'?'

'How sick?'

'Enough!' Derek yelled. All gazes jumped to Derek.

Derek looked to Scott. 'I thought Deaton said he shouldn't use magic?'

Scott nodded. 'He did. But Stiles taught himself a few spells in case he ever needed them. The other night when I was fighting the Crocotta, he had to use a spell to get it off me.'

Derek glared at him. So did everyone else.

'Any you didn't think to say something?' Lydia's voice was shrill with worry.

Whoops.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

They headed straight to Stiles' house.

'They' being Scott, Lydia, Kira, Malia, Derek and Melissa.

They had called Stiles before, but he wasn't answering and to increase their worry, when they called Deaton, he'd said depending on what spell Stiles used, he could already be dead. But he wasn't. Scott knew that much. He'd know if Stiles was gone. He'd just know.

Melissa had suggested calling the sheriff, but Scott didn't want to worry him unless it was worth worrying about. 

Scott couldn't help but feel responsible for Stiles. It was him who Stiles had to save. Him who was ignorant and didn't check up on Stiles. Him who didn't tell anyone.

But as they pull up in the Stilinski household driveway he pushes those thoughts away. He had to see Stiles. 

They all get out of the car and Scott can hear Stiles' heartbeat upstairs in his room. 

Scott wasn't waiting any longer. 

He grabbed the spare key he knew was under the doormat and entered, racing up to his best friend's room.

He saw Stiles on the floor, black blood dripping down his chin.

Scott swore his heart stopped.

'Stiles?' Scott crashed to his knees, hearing the others enter the room behind him. He saw his mum kneel beside him and check Stiles' pulse. He remembered Derek picking Stiles up like he was a feather and all racing to the animal clinic.

He remembered his mum calling the sheriff, and the dread rolling off everyone.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

'There's no cure.'

That's what Deaton tells them as Scott hopelessly watches as Stiles coughs up more black blood but still wouldn't wake up.

The Sheriff crumples. 

No cure.

Those words ripple in Scott's head like an echoing warcry. 

Because his best friend is dying and _hecan'tsavehim_ -

'There is one thing you can do, Scott.'

And Scott knows exactly what Deaton's talking about.

Scott shook his head. 'Stiles never wanted that.'

And even though he longed to give Stiles the Bite, to save him, he could never force that on Stiles.

'Scott,' Malia begs, desperation seeping into her voice.

'But… Stiles…' his voice broke. He didn't want Stiles to die but what if he hated Scott for doing it? What if he never forgives him? What if-?

'Scott.'

Scott looked up. The sheriff stared at him, eyes filled with tears, anguish and fear written all over his face.

'Scott. Please. I know… I know he never wanted it but… I  _ need  _ him.'

And Scott did too. Scott would die without Stiles. He'd be  _ nothing _ without Stiles.

Inhaling shakily, Scott approached Stiles. He grabbed Stiles' arm and let his fangs lower .

_ Please forgive me. _

He bit him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its kinda choppy and back and forth.  
> Also pls forgive me for making Stiles a werewolf. Normally i dont read werewolf stiles fics but i thought i'd try something new.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just say it's a full moon.
> 
> Check tags, I've added some.

Stiles knew deep down that he would die. He remembered Deaton telling him there would be no cure if he got sick after using his magic.  
He remembered Deaton telling him he would die if he got sick.  
He remembered hiding this from Scott.  
He hadn't wanted to worry him. Make him feel the guilt of a death he couldn't have prevented.  
He knew he would die when he collapsed in his room. And weirdly enough, Stiles felt slightly comforted by the fact that he'd be dead by the time Scott or someone else found him.  
Which was why he was confused now.  
Where he could feel air flowing in and out of his lungs.  
Where he could hear his own heartbeat thumping in his chest, as well as seven others next to him.   
Where he could smell chemicals, drugs, antibiotics so strongly they assaulted his nose.  
Where he was not dead.  
His eyes snapped open.  
He shot up, panic and confusion settling in his stomach as he took in his surroundings. He was on the cold examination table in Deaton's clinic. His father sat beside him, as well as Scott and Melissa, while Derek, Lydia, Malia and Deaton stood to the side.  
All eyes turned to him and Stiles felt betrayal sink in. Because he knew what they'd done. His gaze turned to Scott. Then to his bandaged arm, stained slightly by red blood.  
Slowly, with everyone's eyes still on him, he peeled it off, only to reveal smooth, undamaged skin.  
He looked back at Scott, swallowing thickly.  
'You bit me.' It wasn't a question. More an accusation. Because his best friend, his brother, had given him the Bite. Violated his wishes. Betrayed him.  
Scott didn't deny it. 'I couldn't let you die,' he whimpered, voice breaking at being at the brunt of Stiles' anger.  
'Yes, you could've!'  
'Stiles-'  
Stiles felt his heart rise, no, he heard it, and his breathing became short and he couldn't breathe because he was a fucking werewolf now and he was probably losing control now and-  
He felt something sharp in his mouth, in his curled up palms and felt his ears shift as he lost control.  
Then everything became so loud and why was it so loud-  
'Stiles, breathe,' his dad was in front of him, grasping his shoulders, worry flooding his eyes, and Stiles couldn't worry him, not his dad.   
He concentrated on his dad's heartbeat, timing his breathing.  
Then everything was quiet.  
Stiles could breathe again and he knew he'd wolfed out but couldn't be bothered to care because everyone was looking at him and he still had to get it through his head that he was a fricken werewolf.  
That's when Derek spoke up. 'Why are your eyes blue?'  
And Stiles felt his breath leave him again. But this time, he didn't panic. Because he already knew why his eyes were blue. Why his eyes showed that he had taken an innocent life.  
His dad faced him, confused.  
Stiles' face filled with guilt and he only whispered one word.  
'Mum.'

=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The sheriff had been through a lot in his life. More than expected for a sheriff. And he knew his son had too, if not more. His wife's death was something he knew Stiles had never gotten over but hearing Stiles whisper that was something he'd never expected.  
'Son, that wasn't your fault, you know that,' but he knew Stiles didn't know that. Which he felt guilty for because how had he let Stiles live believing he had killed his own mother?  
Stiles shrugged. The sheriff could tell he didn't want to talk about it now, in front of everyone, so he gave him a 'we'll talk about his later' look and changed the subject.  
'How are you feeling?'   
Stiles blinked. What was he supposed to say to that? He was dying and now he's a werewolf and he was going to be like this for the rest of his life and-  
A thought struck him and he found himself oddly amused.  
'What will happen with my ADHD?' he asked with a small smile despite the situation.  
Noah was taken aback, but Deaton stepped in. 'I had a friend who told me of a werewolf who had ADHD before being bitten. He mentioned heightened senses. It may take a bit of control and practice, but you should be able to tame this.'  
Stiles nodded, unsure.  
'Stiles,' Scott started, 'I know you never wanted to be a werewolf, but-'  
'It's okay,' Stiles interrupted.  
Scott stared for a moment before nodding apologetically. 'Still, I wish there was another way to save you.'  
Stiles smiled weakly.   
I'm going to go,' Derek said, standing up. He looked at Scott and murmured something to him.  
And Stiles fought back a smirk because he could hear it.  
'Look out for him.'  
And since when did Derek care about Stiles?  
Derek left and Stiles looked around.   
He could do this.  
And besides, he had the help of his family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.  
> How was it?  
> Hopefully that ending was okay, I know it was kinda abrupt and you might have wanted to see how Stiles adjustes to being a werewolf but I can already tell I wouldn't write it very well.  
> So I'll settle with a sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are mine, if you find any, be sure to tell me.  
> 


End file.
